Bargain Basement
by Random Guise
Summary: Indiana Jones doesn't always have to go looking for adventure; it seems to find him. I don't own these characters, and my house doesn't have a basement. This is an adaption of an oral story, with sound effects included. I've added a framing portion to the story to provide context. Complete.


**A/N: The term 'bargain basement' originated around 1900 to describe an area in a brick and mortar store where they put highly discounted merchandise, often of questionable quality, in order that it wouldn't sully the rest of the 'good stuff' on the regular sales floors. _C_ _aveat emptor_ as they say. _  
_**

 **Thanks to Qoheleth for pointing out the written version of this story doesn't play quite as well as a verbal rendition of it. So I've written in a framing story so the sound effects already in it make more sense.**

 **If you like this story, tell it to your friends. If you don't like it, tell it to your enemies...**

* * *

Bargain Basement

 _Scoutmaster Jerry had the young scouts gathered around him. "How many of you have heard of Professor Jones at the College?" Many of the scouts raised their hands; he was famous for going off on amazing adventures when not teaching at the local school. I'm going to tell you a story about him that none of you has heard before, except for Tom." Tom was the oldest Scout, and had heard the story before. He was starting to grin._

 _"I'm going to tell the story, and I need you to help. When Indy does certain things, I want you to help with the sounds-so I need you to pay attention. Tom will give you an idea about where the sounds go." They all sat down in a group and Jerry began his story._

 _..._

Henry "Indiana" Jones Jr. was looking to buy a house.

Having spent years traveling around the world in the search for archeological treasures, he had managed to secure a teaching job at Barnett College. With the job he was able to find a place where he could store his gear and mementos, rest, and spend semesters teaching a new generation like you boys from his experiences before going on new adventures. He didn't always have to go looking for adventure; no matter where he laid his head, adventure knew how to find him.

Indy looked at many houses for a month trying to find the right one, but it seemed like all of them had something he didn't like. The bathroom was leaking, the kitchen was too big, or it was next to a big stinky garbage dump. (Ewwww said Tom. The few of the other boys joined in.)

He took to driving around the suburbs looking for "For Sale" signs in the hopes of stumbling upon something different. On one such trip, he found a house a mile out of town with a new sale sign planted on the front lawn. He wrote down the address and called the agent who arranged a showing of the house the following day.

The next day, Indy drove out to the house again and met the agent out front. The agent unlocked the door, and gave him a quick tour of the house, pointing out bathrooms, closet space and the other features that come to expected when someone is shopping for a house. A smile started to grow on his face as Indy continued the tour, finding the house very much to his liking. After an hour of examining the rooms, the surrounding yard and miscellaneous belongings left behind, Indy was convinced that this was THE house. But now a frown appeared on the agent's face, and he told him what the previous owner had told him: there was something wrong with the basement.

It didn't matter, Indy said, he weren't really interested in the basement anyway. The house was just too perfect in all other regards. He told the agent he'd take the house, and drove off thinking of what furnishings would go where and just how big the house warming party was going to be.

The next day, Indy received a phone call from the agent. He explained that in good faith, he just couldn't sell the house without him at least checking the basement to make sure it met with his approval. Indy tried to convince the agent otherwise but in the end agreed to look at the basement just to make the agent happy.

Indy went by the agent's office on a Saturday morning and got the keys to the house. After arriving at the house, he thumbed through the keys to find the proper one for the lock on the basement door; tarnished no doubt from infrequent use. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was a quarter after nine. He gave himself a half hour to look around, figuring that should be enough time to see if anything major was wrong with the basement. He had to work the key a little in the lock, but the bolt grudgingly moved and he stared through the doorway into darkness. Just at the bottom of the stairs he could make out a light switch, so leaving the door open he made his way down the steps (1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 counted out Tom). At the bottom he flipped the switch, only to be rewarded with a quick flash as the light burned out. Not surprising considering how old and damp the place smelled, he thought. Remembering that there were some light bulbs in a kitchen drawer, he walked back up the steps (10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1 Tom counted as more scouts joined in). He went outside to his car and retrieved a flashlight, then found a light bulb in a kitchen drawer full of assorted things and walked back down the steps again (1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10). Using the flashlight, he located the light fixture on a wall by the foot of the stairs and replaced the light. He flipped the switch, and was rewarded with continued darkness. Hmmm, bad bulb he thought. He returned to the kitchen (10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1) and got another bulb out of the drawer, this time testing it in a lamp before taking it downstairs (1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 all the scouts had joined in now). This time, the bulb proved reliable and a flip of the switch lit up the area around the bottom of the stair.

Except for the stairs, the two walls diverged at a 90 degree angle without any features, fading quickly into blackness. Indy looked down, expecting to see old carpet that cushioned his shoes, but was instead surprised to find something that resembled grass. No wait, it WAS grass. What, did someone make a little putting green down here he thought; but grass probably wouldn't grow in a basement without light. But there had to be another light down here somewhere, no matter if it was a putting green or just a dirt floor left to its own whims. He started down the wall to his right, going slowly and playing the beam of his flashlight up and down looking for any switches, fuse boxes or even electrical conduit. After walking slowly for a few minutes, he came upon a fuse box set in the wall. It appeared to be heavy duty, and was currently in a "blown" state, maybe from some power surge or short. Trying an old trick, he placed a penny from his pocket in the socket and reinserted the fuse. With a flicker, the air around him became suffused with a gray light, fading off in what appeared to be some type of fog. This wasn't good he thought, maybe I have a broken pipe to the water heater or some other water source. Leaving the light on, he retraced his steps back to the stairs and made his way up to the kitchen slowly while lost in thought (10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1).

He set his flashlight down on the counter, and turned to lock the door to the basement. Looking at his watch, he saw that it was 9:18. 9:18? He had been down in the basement for a good twenty minutes, NOT three. But his watch seemed to be working fine. He went into the living room and looked at the clock on the wall; it agreed with his watch. Puzzled, he figured he had just read the wrong time before he went down. And, since he didn't have to be back at the agent's office until after noon, he went back inside the house and decided to take another quick look at the basement. So he went back down the steps (1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10) and once again followed the wall he had used earlier. As he walked along, he looked at his watch to gauge how long he down here. The digital display was frozen at 9:21. Great, I've forgotten to wind my watch he said to himself.

He walked on, past the point he had turned around earlier, further into the gray mist. Slowly, something dark began to take shape as he walked toward it. As he neared, he made out a wall made of brick, unlike the concrete wall he had been walking along. It was while examining the brick wall that he noticed another unusual feature of the basement. He hadn't noticed before, but he couldn't see the ceiling at all. He could make out the top of the brick wall to be about 10 feet tall, from which a knotted rope hung over the edge from a stone post down to the ground in front of him. The ceiling was nowhere to be seen. This was getting a little weird, and I haven't got all day to figure it out he thought; maybe if I climb to the top of the wall I can see further. So he grabbed the rope and started to climb up. Snap! it broke as he had only gone up a foot or so. Oh well, he would just need to get a rope when he had more time to look around; naturally he hadn't brought his whip with him to use as a substitute. He walked back along the concrete wall again, grumbling a bit about what a job this was turning out to be. He had other things to do today and couldn't spend all morning in the basement. Absorbed in thought, he tripped going up the stairs (10-10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1). Looking at his watch in the light of the kitchen, he saw that it was running again but showed only 9:22. Getting a somewhat ominous feeling, he went into the living room and checked the clock there again. Sure enough, it agreed with his watch.

He stoop for a moment in the living room and thought. Although he certainly felt as if he had been at the house for well over an hour, time seemed to have stopped while he was in the basement. Ridiculous yes; but there it was just the same. And at the same time, the question of what was on the other side of the wall nagged at him. He wasn't going to find out sitting out here, and it would seem he had all the time in the world as long as he was in the basement; it was too bad Ox wasn't here to see too. Having settled that, he set out again to get a thorough look at what was "wrong" with the basement, apart from the fact that it wasn't behaving like a well-mannered basement at all. With resolve, he got a rope out of the trunk of his car and once again descended the steps into the basement (1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10).

He was certainly capable of investigating a basement, no matter how strange it may be. He made his way back to the brick wall, and fashioned a lasso of sorts from the rope. After a few attempts, he was able to catch the post and pull the rope tight. Straining just a little, he pulled himself up hand over hand to the top of the wall (Tom gave an enthusiastic _grunt grunt_ ) and paused to look around. The vantage from atop the wall offered nothing new to him, and he still couldn't see the ceiling. He did notice, however, that the ground on the other side of the wall was covered not with grass, but with sand. Having come this far, he pulled up the rope and tossed it over the other side ( _plop_ ). He lowered himself down easily and stood in the sand, resting for a moment. Barely audible, he just managed to hear the sound of running water in the direction away from the brick wall. Setting off again with determination, he continued to follow the concrete wall to his right in order to find the broken pipe or whatever the water source was.

After some time, checking to make sure that his watch was still stopped, the sound of the water could be heard over his footfalls in the sand ( _crunch crunch_ ). Just as his breathing was becoming a little labored, he was brought to a halt by the source of the running water. It was running water all right, a small stream that appeared from under the concrete wall and continued through the sand into the mist ( _gurgle gurgle_ ). Indy looked closely at where the water appeared, and was surprised to see that the water flowed through the wall by means of some pipe or conduit. Let me guess he thought; a water hazard for that basement putting green. In any case, he didn't want to get his feet wet crossing the stream, so he followed the stream along the bank as it flowed downstream, growing wider and deeper as he walked. His stomach grumbled ( _grumble grumble_ ) as he walked along, telling him that maybe his watch wasn't running down here, but his body clock wasn't fooled. It knew he had been exerting himself for some time.

Quite a few minutes later his walking brought him to the destination of the stream, in what seemed to be an underground lake. Or make that a basement lake, he reminded himself. This was NOT from a broken pipe he decided, as he made his way to the edge of the lake. A rather knurled tree stood a few feet away, and underneath sat a large shape. He walked over and saw that the tree was an apple tree, although not a very big one, and the shape was a small rowboat. There were a few green apples on the tree, and Indy picked one. Timidly, he took a bite and found that it was fairly tasty. It didn't matter if it was Pippen or a (Tom, name an apple; "Granny Smith" he said), it was good and he ate it down to the core ( _munch munch_ ) as he examined the boat. It was small, only big enough for two people, but seemed to be in fairly good condition and had a pair of oars fit to the sides. He drug the boat down to the water, but when he pushed it into the lake water began to fill the bottom. He pulled the boat out and found that a drain hole in the bottom of the boat was allowing the water in, and no amount of searching in the boat produced a plug for it. I don't know about a proper plug for the boat he thought, but there was a cork in the kitchen that was just about the right size.

Indy had to find out what was on the other side of the lake, so he set off to make his way back to the kitchen. After burying his apple core in the sand he walked along the stream ( _gurgle gurgle_ ), through the sand ( _crunch crunch_ ), over the wall ( _grunt grunt_ ) to the base of the stairs and up into the kitchen (10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1). He rummaged briefly in the drawer and found the cork, then grabbed the flashlight again just in case the lights went out. That would be TOO far to try and travel in the dark. In a bit more of a hurry now, he skipped down the steps into the basement again (2-4-6-8-10) and walked briskly to the wall where he went up and over ( _grunt grunt_ ). Through the sand ( _crunch crunch_ ) to the stream ( _gurgle gurgle_ ) and down to the shore of the lake. He picked another apple and sat under the tree, eating it as he wondered what was on the other side of the lake ( _munch munch. Tom, what kind of apple was it? "Red Delicious" he said_ ).

Burying his latest apple core in the sand, he fit the cork tightly into the hole in the boat and pushed it out into the lake. The interior of the boat remained dry, so he hopped in and grabbed the oars as he sat down. Hands on handles, he pulled away from the shore (stroke stroke) and followed the shoreline around the side of the lake on the other side of the stream, just far enough out so that he could see anything that might appear on the shore. He paused momentarily to listen and heard a bird off in the distance toward where he was rowing. This was something different. Not that having brick walls, streams, lakes and trees in your basement wasn't different mind you, but an animal was really strange. Well, thought Indy, maybe not so strange for this place.

Slowly, out of the mist shapes began to emerge as he drew closer. Soon, he found himself looking at the edge of what appeared to be a jungle that grew to the edge of the water. He continued rowing for a few minutes longer, until finally coming to a small clearing near the water. A small wooden plank extended out into the water for several feet. Indy coasted up near the plank, and climbed on top as he drug the boat up to the shore. He walked across the clearing, which had a diameter of about 30 feet, and came to a wooden box about two feet squared. He unlatched the lid, and opened it to reveal a tied plastic bag inside. Opening the bag, his nose was greeted by the smell of wonderful (and slightly peppered) beef jerky. Having worked up an appetite that hadn't been satisfied by a few apples, he tasted the jerky and found it quite tasty. He took a few pieces out, replacing the rest back in the bag and putting the cache back in the box. Chewing on his new found treasure ( _munch munch_ ) he walked around the perimeter of the clearing, finding mostly thick jungle growth. He did stumble upon what appeared to be a path laid with stone blocks in the ground, but the vegetation was too thick to go more than a few feet. What he needed was that dusty machete knife on the top shelf in the hallway closet.

Indy walked back out on the plank, pulled the boat to deeper water, and hopped back in. He rowed the boat (row row) back along the lake shore to the apple tree and beached the boat again. He followed the stream ( _gurgle gurgle_ ) back to its source, then walked across the sand ( _crunch crunch_ ) to the wall, were he hoisted himself over ( _grunt grunt_ ) to the other side. He walked along the wall to the base of the steps, which he ascended (10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1) to the kitchen. In short order he got the machete, found that it was still pretty sharp and in good condition, got a drink of water ( _gulp gulp_ ) and entered the basement again (1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10). He walked across the grass and climbed over the wall. When he paused on the other side of the wall, he began to realize just how tired he was getting from all the work he had been doing. He sat down in the sand with his back against the wall to rest for a short time. Instead, he fell asleep sitting up ( _The scouts snored_ ).

An unknown time later he awoke when he fell after slumping over. His first reaction was disorientation, until he remembered that he was in the basement. A brief panic over the time was quickly put to ease when he confirmed that his watch still showed only 9:32 in the morning. He stood up and stretched, feeling a little stiff from sleeping in a sitting position. He made his way to the stream ( _gurgle gurgle_ ), and followed what was becoming a regular trail of his footsteps down to the lake. He climbed into the boat and headed back across the lake ( _row row_ ). Beaching the boat, he made his way back to the box and had a few more pieces of jerky ( _munch munch except for Bill who went 'chomp chomp'_ ) before attacking the path. After a few swings with the knife ( _whack whack_ ) he removed his shirt and laid it over the box, then returned to clearing the path into the jungle.

The going was slow, but foot by foot he made his way down the path laid out by the stones. Very quickly he lost sight of the clearing behind him, as his whole world seemed to be a tunnel through the lush growth. He heard a few more sounds (over his labored breathing) of birds, but of course saw nothing. Just when he was starting to think that he couldn't make much further ground on his path clearing, the vegetation started to thin. With a final few lunges he was able to break through into another clearing.

This clearing centered not on a beach, but a cave set into an almost sheer rock face. Indy walked up to the entrance and peered in only to see nothing but inky blackness. He half expected to find a torch lying nearby, but none was to be found. Wearily he turned around and started heading back to get his flashlight for this next obstacle. He made a few swipes with his knife as he followed the path back to the beach, then with resolve he got in the boat and started back across the lake ( _row row_ ) toward the apple tree. It wasn't until the middle of the lake that he realized that he already had picked up the flashlight earlier, and was sitting on it at the moment. At least I didn't have to go all the way to the kitchen he thought as he turned around and rowed back to the clearing. He walked back through the path, now satisfied that it didn't need any more pruning. Setting the knife beside the cave entrance, he pulled the flashlight out of his pocket and flipped it on to illuminate the cave.

The cave seemed to be roughly hewn, averaging eight feet high and the same width. For the first time, he was able to make out a set of vague footprints in the floor of the cave leading back into the darkness. Listening carefully, he slowly made his way into the cave, following the footprints as they led further and further into the rock face.

After a few minutes, the darkness gave way to the same gray light he was used to seeing by now. He emerged from the cave to stand on a butte overlooking a magnificent vista of jungle at least 100 feet below. As his gaze swept the horizon, he could hardly take in all the beauty before him. It was perfectly understandable then that his brain just didn't seem to register the huge gorilla that was standing on the other end of the butte, about a hundred feet away. By the time that the little light in his head was lighting up with the word "danger", the gorilla saw him. Both stared for a moment, not moving. Then Indy would have SWORN that the gorilla grinned, if such a thing was possible. As far as he was concerned, it was possible and couldn't be a good thing. He dashed back into the cave, his last look back showing that the gorilla was setting off after him. He dashed through the cave, stumbled and dropped the flashlight. Not daring to stop to grab it, he continued on with hands in front of him. Through the cave he could hear the echoes of the gorilla ( _grunt grunt_ ) behind him.

He broke out of the cave into the clearing and raced across into the jungle path, not looking behind him. Vines stinging his face, he hurried out of the jungle tunnel and dived into the boat. As he quickly pulled away from shore he could just see the gorilla enter the clearing before it was lost in the mist. He paused to savor his escape, only to hear splashing noises to the side. He realized that the gorilla must be running along the shoreline in the shallow water. He resumed his race across the lake ( _row row_ ), pulling with every ounce of energy he had. The boat ran up on the beach as he tumbled out, gathered himself up and ran up along the stream. The splashing stopped, telling Indy that the gorilla had made it to the stream and was now on the sand behind him.

He raced to the headwaters, and turned in the direction of the wall. His strength was starting to go, but he continued running with all the speed he could muster in the sand. He hit the wall, and pulled himself up the rope despite his complaining muscles. At the top he looked down to see the gorilla had made up a large amount of ground and was near the base of the wall, his grunting becoming louder ( _grunt grunt_ ). Indy slipped and half fell/jumped down the other side of the wall, hitting the ground and rolling. He came up and set off again for the stairs, limping somewhat from his fall. Behind him he could hear the gorilla land and footsteps coming closer.

His lungs burned from the effort, his eyes watered from the exertion, and his ankle throbbed as he labored to run to the stairs. The footsteps got closer, and Indy could even hear the gorilla breathing now. Closer to the light at the foot of the stairs, closer the sound of the gorilla behind him; he imagined he could even feel the breath of the gorilla on his back now. He bounded up the stairs (10-7-4-3) and was just ready to lunge through the doorway when he felt the hand of the gorilla on his back.

As he sailed through the doorway into the kitchen, his ears picked up the words of the gorilla: "Tag, you're it!"

...

 _Jerry looked at the scouts. Some liked it, some didn't, and some had a quizzical look that said "That's it?" "That's the story! Now who wants to tell it to some Cub Scouts?" All the hands went up._

The End

* * *

 **A/N (continued): When a friend and I told this story to another two friends on a long road trip, we included the sound effects to heighten (and lengthen) the experience. It ended up being one of those cases where the telling of the joke was much more fun than the actual punchline. This is actually a shortened version of that story, and many are probably thinking it wasn't short enough!  
**


End file.
